Flu You!
by Seantarboe
Summary: The History Boys: Posner's got the flu, and Scripps flips. Luckily, Lockwood and Timms come to the rescue...sort of. PosnerxScripps
1. Hot Food in the Fridge

No prompts for this one, loves. Just a flu myself and a marvelous friend who can't make soup (although, thinking about it this may be a real, lifesize prompt of its own).

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The History Boys, but, _lord_, I wish I did.

Also, this includes a gay couple, if you didn't read the summary. Now personally I love them and want to marry them both but if you don't like then don't read.

* * *

Posner was sick.

It was just a light flu, but the day Posner fainted in English class Scripps' hands didn't stop shaking and, Rudge told him later, he wouldn't bloody _shut the hell up_. As a matter of fact, Scripps had no memory of saying anything at all -- rather, all he remembered was one thought going round and round in his head, hitting against his skull painfully; _He'd better be okay. He'd better be okay._

Posner _was_ okay; he was sent home for some long-needed rest, and at the end of school Scripps instantly volunteered to bring Posner his homework, yelling and waving his hand higher than everyone else's, especially once he realised Posner had probably crashed at _his _house since it was closer to the school.

When he got home, throwing the door open with a bang and rushing into his bedroom, Scripps found Posner drowsily watching _Twelve Men_ and eating a carton of ice cream with a light blush on his cheeks. Scripps would've flipped completely had Posner not chosen that moment to look over at him with his puppy eyes and say sadly, "I couldn't find any hot food in the fridge, and I was too tired to make anything."

_Of _course _you didn't find any hot food in the fridge, it's a fridge after all _Scripps wanted to say, but the look on Posner's face nearly broke his heart. Instead, he said hurriedly, "I'm going to go make you some soup. Stay here."

It was only when he'd reached the kitchen and stared at the cabinet for a minute as though it would magically sprout an instant Cup O' Noodles package that Scripps suddenly remembered he had no idea how to make soup. At home his mother had always cooked and now Posner usually whipped something up for them or they ordered takeout.

It must've been the combination of a hopeless fridge and desolate Posner that finally made him crack, because five minutes later Scripps found himself pounding on Lockwood's door, unbelievably out of breath and completely forgetting to lock up his bike.

He would never know exactly _why_ he'd gone to Lockwood's; it was a split second decision, an instinctual choice. Apparently he'd made a good choice because after pounding for around a minute a livid Timms, who happened to be a fair cook, opened the door roughly while shouting at _whoever you are to WAIT ONE SECOND!_

When he saw Scripps leaning on the doorway, red-faced and watery-eyed with his bike dropped halfway into the street, he apologized instantly and, wrapping a large hand around his wrist, yanked him in. "'Ey, Woody!" he yelled down the hallway. "We've got company!"

"My name's not _Woody!_" Lockwood screamed in reply, strolling into the hallway himself. "Evenin', Scripps! What brings you here on this lovely--"

"Posner needs soup," Scripps interrupted, and a moment later mentally kicked himself. Why had this seemed like such a big deal just a moment ago? It sounded pathetic when he said it now.

As if to emphasize his realisation, Lockwood shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his chin up, looking through his dark lashes at the blond curiously. "Alright?" he prompted, waiting for Scripps to explain himself.

Scripps opened his mouth, and sneezed.

* * *

**A/N: **Next chapter coming up soon! My first multi-chapter story, oh the beauty of it. I hope for your blessing and corrections, reviewers!


	2. Spit Soup

Second chapter! It's been a long time coming. Thanks so much for the reviews, it's great to know there's some more THB fans out there.

**Disclaimer: **If it's possible to love Alan Bennett for doing the movie and hate Alan Bennett for doing the movie without me, I have accomplished it.

* * *

"This is delicious!" Scripps exclaimed as the soup slid down his throat.

"Yes well we put in a _special_ ingredient," Timms informed him.

"Mm," hummed Scripps, "And what is that?" He took another spoonful, turning the liquid over in his mouth.

"My spit," replied Lockwood, and Scripps choked on his spoon, dropping it back into the bowl with a clank.

"Your -- in the soup -- _what_?!" he sputtered, spitting out the remaining broth disgustedly.

Timms laughed loudly. "We were just kidding, mate! We would never give Pozzy that!"

Lockwood eyed the bowl in front of them. "Well, now there really _is_ a special ingredient. How romantic!" he mock-swooned, placing a dramatic hand over his forehead.

"Yeah, it's like he's kissing you without knowing it!" said Timms enthusiastically, "But like not rape, because it's _soup_!"

Scripps looked down at the soup unhappily. "You two," he said slowly, "...are probably the reason most women turn gay."

"Aw, no, don't say that!" Timms protested, throwing his hands up while Lockwood said cheekily, "Yeh, but it's probably the reason _you_ turned gay too, ey?"

Scripps looked up at Lockwood and made a face. "I would rather kill myself with Tudor Economics Volume Two than crush on you," he said disdainfully. "Actually," he corrected after a moments thought, "I would rather kill _you_ with the bloody book. Two birds with one stone, you know?"

There was silence for a moment, before Timms said slightly timidly, "Are you still going to give him the soup, then? We worked hard on that."

"Oi!" Lockwood exclaimed at this, reaching for the bowl. "We can't give Posner spit soup!"

"It's not _spit soup_," Scripps snapped, grabbing the hot soup back, ignoring the scalding droplets which sloshed over onto his hand. "And Posner _needs_ soup. He's sick. That's what sick people _do_."

Scripps severely regretted the last few seconds the moment he saw Timms and Lockwood eyeing him strangely, and felt a searing pain where the soup had spilled on him. "Defensive, much?" muttered Lockwood, the corners of his mouth turning up.

Meanwhile, Timms commented lightly, "I thought sick people needed medicine."

"That's my next stop," Scripps said hurriedly, shoving the soup back into Lockwood's hands. "Pack this up, will you? I need to ice my hand." He ran towards the kitchen before stopping and turning back to the two other boys, both of whom were still standing there looking confused.

"Sooner than later, right?"

Lockwood jumped up a little, and nodded. "Go wash your bloody hand! Burnt flesh. Disgusting."

"Not to a cannibal, I reckon," said Timms, moving forwards to get a bag. "_They_ probably find it quite appealing. Like a burnt marshmallow."

"The only person who likes burnt marshmallow is _you_," Lockwood retorted, depositing the soup carefully into a nest of ceram wrap.

In the kitchen, Scripps smiled a little at his friends' playful banter.

_I wonder what Dakin does when Irwin's sick..._

_Probably goes to Fiona, _said a snarky voice in his head.

Scripps shook his head. It wasn't that Fiona wasn't attractive, but... oh, Posner, Posner, Posner.

* * *

Lot's of dialogue, and the beginning wasn't great, but I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!


End file.
